My parents are glad I called, and say that I can do whatever. I am pretty much a woman, my mother says in her mournful way that I am getting older. 

Jess is really polite to me, and we fit my bike in the back of her car. It's not that I can't drive, I just prefer not to when I don't have to.

And with this, we drive out of town and to a little country house. The whole drive she keeps up a small chatter. I learn that she is the youngest, the only girl out of eight siblings, and is an overachiever at everything. I like her style, and her accent is really nice to listen to. I also learn that she moved here only a year ago from some other place that I didn't recognize, and also doesn't like how lazy the city folk are. 

The house is old-fashioned and inside is perfectly cozy. She introduces me to her grandmother, who is short but fit. She tells me that everyone else is probably out working on preparing for the harvest.

That one word alone makes my heart ache, all I wanted was to go out and see if I could help out, but I know that I am a guest and doing something like that may set us off on the wrong foot. She tells her grandmother about my thirst for this ice cream and her face lights up. "Want to make some ice cream, dearie?"

I agree eagerly, and the three of us dive into the kitchen to start working. No, there weren't the perfect berries in the fridge. And no, we didn't milk a cow for fresh milk. But yes, I got to make this ice cream again. And, I got to do it with a new friend.

It gets late, and the ice cream wouldn't be ready until morning anyways. So, I say goodbye and Jess brings me home.